


Chained Kysterion-B

by PaisleyWraith



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, context needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyWraith/pseuds/PaisleyWraith
Summary: Investigating a band of cultists, Kenny finds himself in another timeline like some kind of comic book series. Luckily, he has a partner to try and get him back home, and oddly enough, it's the same guy as the one he's kind of into back in his own life.Non-canon fic that works as a playful sequel to both Kysterion-B and Chain.





	1. Chained 1

The cape swished against the back of his calves as he slipped behind the doorframe, watching the figure stare unsuspectingly out the window. 

Foolish. It would be easy for anyone to slip behind him. For someone who was so paranoid, he was getting spacey lately. He wasn’t even noticing the person standing a foot behind him now, in the golden light of the kitchen and fully visible in the reflection of the darkened window. 

He took another step forward, slow. Silent. Made his move and situated himself before he could be noticed. 

Mysterion pressed his lips against Kyley’s neck, kissing the warm skin just under his ear. 

He caught the elbow automatically thrust at him, lifting his head to give Kyley a good look at who he actually was. 

The city boy pressed his lips together, scowling, ripping his arm away to rest his hands back on the sink lip. “You’re lucky I didn’t deck you.” 

He was lucky it was Mysterion who broke in, not some wild assassin. He took a breath, feeling the slight restraint from the protective chestplate of his uniform. He watched, silently, knowing Kyley couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long. 

“How was the search tonight?” Kyley still wasn’t looking him in the eyes, moving to begin putting away dishes from the dishwasher with clattering carelessness. “Were they there?” 

“No.” Mysterion tracked every movement of the boy, noticing the absence of hair product and his rumpled outfit. “Were you napping?” 

“No, I wasn’t,” Kyley snapped, slamming a cabinet door shut. “I was waiting to hear if you found a blood-covered group of insane cultists. I didn’t feel much like taking a goddamn nap!” 

He was angry he’d been snuck up on. Mysterion took another step into his space, unafraid of the hotheaded son of a now-dead supervillainess. 

His chest was nearly pressed against Kyley’s back, he reached with a gloved hand for his hip, thumb brushing through layers of fabric. 

“I haven’t checked yet,” Mysterion angled towards his ear, shifting closer until the words were murmured against the place on his neck he’d just kissed. “Wanted to stop by, first.” 

He felt Kyley breathe, air stuttering in his lungs, and kissed his neck again. The tension bled out of Kyley and the boy leaned back against him, allowing a moment of vulnerability in his agitated mood. 

Mysterion let him lean as long as he needed to, supporting his weight easily. His arms reached around to hug the boy, eyes closing as he breathed him in. 

Kyley nuzzled his cheek, then moving to stand up straight again. He gently pressed his elbow against the Vigilante’s breastbone, not near hard enough to hurt and without any intention of doing so. 

“So, you’ve stopped by.” The boy pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning again, beginning to rinse dishes again. “Go get back to work. Get me some actual damn intel this time or don’t come back at all.” 

“Nice,” Mysterion purposely ruffled his hair, just to piss him off, and slipped out of reach. “And you’re the romantic.” 

“Nothing is as romantic as the city’s Death Boy coming back to me in the dead of night with something to help me wipe out these monsters,” Kyley lifted an eyebrow, smirking at Mysterion’s visible distaste for the nickname. “So make yourself useful.” 

“Watch your mouth,” Mysterion told him, pulling his hood back to it’s lower position. “I’m a dangerous individual.” 

Kyley’s expression was flat as he didn’t even bother responding. Just turned around and muttered something probably immensely sarcastic under his breath. Mysterion chuckled, low and soft. Affectionately. And slipped from the kitchen. 

Kyley would be fine. 

Mysterion had several ways back to the city from the neighborhood. Once they decided to make themselves A Thing, the Vigilante had silently promised himself he would never make Kyley’s life harder for him. Mysterion would never be connected to him. 

Officially, a Kenny McCormick was under employment as a bodyguard under Kyle Broflovski. He looked forward to being able to tell their friends about some exaggerated, edited tale of a true romance, of falling in love accidentally, of danger and secrets, of a heated romance with the dashing, intelligent, fiery son of a supervillain. 

A smile curved Mysterion’s lips unconsciously as he passed through the shadows of the city, taking untraveled streets to get back to the evicted apartment building Kyley had tracked the cultists to. What had he done without the Jersey boy? The thought was fond, and he made up his mind that Kenny would ask him once he came back home. His smile grew into something more mischievous.  
He stopped, listening to faint city life, watching the street lights reflected in cold, wet pavement. The apartment was ahead, and he’d have to be extremely cautious. No more daydreaming. 

As soon as he thought that, his gaze drifted to the soggy papers fluttering underfoot in the breeze. He scraped at one with his boot, recognizing the headline. It was at least a week old, he wasn’t going to forget that day any time soon. 

**SON OF SUPERVILLAIN PLEADS FOR LENIENCY-**

The paper cut off too early, of course, but even that much told enough. Mysterion exhaled, slowly, lips pressing into a firm, unamused line. How Kyley’s official, public comment about who he was had been portrayed was…less than ideal. 

Kenny didn’t often share traits with the masked man. But he’d been infuriated and still was. 

Turns out, Mysterion didn’t have to endanger Kyley-B. He’d done that on his own, just by existing. By turning that spotlight back on himself. 

The Vigilante physically shook his head, moisture flying off the edges of his hood. No more daydreaming. Focus. He wasn’t going to be a danger to Kyley, and the redhead hothead wasn’t going to be one for him. No matter how much more his thoughts seemed to wander, lately. 

He regarded the building down the block. Best approach from above. Slide into a window from the roof, as long as it wasn’t guarded. It shouldn’t be. These weren’t bank thieves, these were cultists. They tended to be more self-absorbed. 

Mysterion swung up the fire escape of an old building blearily proclaiming ‘LOANS!’ in faded red writing on the windows. He stepped up the stairs most of the way, bracing a foot against the metal structure and leaping for the window ledge next. 

The good thing about dying all the time was you began to know your body’s limits. Trial and error, and all that. Mysterion easily reached the ledge, hauling himself up to the dilapidated rooftop. 

The wind was even more aggressive up here, going so far as to actually send his heavy, water-resistant cape aflutter. Mysterion took in the golden sheen covering the city, fog had settled in with the changing weather and the moisture seemed to make breathing feel wet. 

The streets were empty. He took a good leap at the gap between the buildings, landing almost silently and holding completely still. Listening. 

At the absence of any unusual sound, Mysterion made the final jump up onto the ladder protruding from the apartment building, flakes of rust rubbing off underneath the grip of his gloves. 

His breath misted in front of him, and he quietly clambered upward, crouching before carefully peering into the nearest window. 

It was dark inside, pitch dark, and his first bizarre thought was to ask Kyley about something to help him see in the dark. That was stupid, he didn’t want to turn into one of those gadget-based heroes. He’d look like a ninny. Mysterion’s entire persona was darkness and fear. 

And a hot little Jewish kid with a taste for danger and a brilliant mind. 

_Stop,_ Mysterion begged the Kenny-part of his brain. He was supposed to stop thinking about him night and day after some period of time. Someone better tell him mind when it was goddamn time because this was getting distracting. 

No time for distractions. Just danger, and trying to come home in a timely manner to the person his mind so eagerly kept coming back to. Focus, and stop being a dreamy little moron. 

Pep talk over, Mysterion absently pushed up at the window and nearly lost his balance in surprise. Goddamn morons didn’t even lock their goddamn windows. 

His thoughts anxiously tried to return to his partner, and Mysterion pushed back with his steel will. He wasn’t Kenny. He was Mysterion. 

And he was able to step into the window and into the darkened room without trouble. 

Maybe he ought to make his career chasing cultists. This was far easier than mob bosses or individual criminals. 

Mysterion crouched in the silent, carpeted room, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The wallpaper was peeling, and the room smelled old and stale. A surprising lack of drugs, or else they hadn’t been used lately, just mildew and old building. 

The floor under him squished unpleasantly as he stood. Gross. It must have been left open during the rain earlier. That at least meant someone had been here within the past five hours. 

The room was mostly bare, save for a half-dozen army cots and a dresser. Mysterion swept over to the door, pressing his ear against it as he lightly touched the doorknob. 

Nothing. Not a sound, except for his light breathing. 

He slowly turned the knob, pressing his thumb against the pop-out lock to quieten it’s snap as he turned it all the way round. Door unlocked, he took another four seconds before stepping out into the hall. 

Alright, now he was starting to see signs of crazy. 

Symbols were painted on the walls. Not haphazardly, but masterfully, every symbol in such neat detail it might have been done with a stencil. A star, a circle, the simple word ‘travel,’ symbols that made his skin crawl oddly, and he was certainly not one to spook easily. 

He ignored them, for now, despite the bizarre feeling of someone watching he had when he turned his back. The floors were wooden and he had to be a bit more careful where he stepped to avoid giving away his position. Assuming there _were_ even any people in here, still. 

Mysterion stepped through the halls, resolutely avoiding eye contact the symbols on the cracking plaster walls, all his senses waiting for someone to come and disturb them. Not a sound, a smell, a sight of anything living. He expected some buzz tonight, that was why he was here. Why so many reports if no one was around? 

The next moment, it was like the world exploded into color. 

Screams echoed in his ears, all he could see was violet, purple tinged everything, the figures on the walls seemed to glow almost fuchsia, the only clear thing anymore in his hazed, purple vision. 

Had he been slipped something? Had the doorknob he touched been tainted with some kind of drug? Mysterion tried to back away and ended up slamming directly into the nearest wall, his body becoming heavy as the screeching in his ears continued. 

“Stop! Stop!” He faintly heard, behind the sound of shouting, enraged cultists infuriated at his interruption, and he crumpled against the light. 

The ceiling seemed to split, opening, and what he saw next was…beyond description. 

Horror and death, the slick sound of flesh peeling away from bone, darkness so deep it looked wrong. A pressure against his chest like a weighted boot, the word ‘travel’ pressing heavily against the front of his mind. 

Two completely different entities, realizing at the same time that they were no longer in the place they’d just been. Realizing one another, in this strange abyss, this in-between, and reaching for each other in absolute shock. 

Mirrors, the whips of limbs that weren’t human, his mind just couldn’t _comprehend_ what he was actually seeing. The shadowed vigilante was struck, horrified, no, they both were, two entirely different people with the same exact thought. 

If I make it back, Kyley is going to fucking kill me. 

\--

Kenny’s chest heaved as he gasped, nearly throwing up with the drag of new breath into his lungs. Fuck him, that hurt. He gagged, blurred vision making colors bleed into each other indecipherably. 

“Get up!” The words were so harsh that even the hero jumped, head spinning. He was seriously going to throw up. He tried to cover his mouth and ended up slapping himself across the face. 

“F’k wha-” He growled, panicking over his loss of sight. He needed to see. His eyes were the majority of all he had to work with. He _needed_ to see. 

“You absolute fucking tool,” The words were clear and sharp, accented with familiarity that made his stomach flip. “Take a fucking moment. Breathe. Take a breath, doll.” 

Doll? His mind hazily curled around the word as he blinked, feeling like he had grains of sand under his eyelids. Yet the world was coming back into focus, and all that mattered was the blur of orangey-red in the faint light coming in the windows. 

Kenny licked his chapped lips, staring directly into concerned greenish-brown eyes. He grinned crookedly, enjoying the sight of sunlit red hair falling over a genuinely worried face. He’d never seen him without hair product before. He looked beautiful. 

“What’s going on?” Kyley-B demanded, eyes fierce. “Say something, you dick, before I leave you here.” 

“I hate sand,” Kenny began to giggle weakly, “It’s- ouch.”

Kyley had smacked him lightly, little more than a pat on the cheek. The boy sat back, shoulders dropping in obvious relief. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” The Jersey boy told him furiously. “God, I waited for you for ages last night. I thought you were dead on the street. Thought maybe someone unmasked you.” 

Unmasked him? Kenny touched his face, realizing with shock that he was Mysterion at the moment. 

But of course he was, Kyley was here. He’d been looking for him. Of course he was Mysterion. 

“What the flying hell are you wearing?” Kyley picked at his hood, tugging it down easily. “Where’s your uniform?”

He looked down. He wasn’t naked. Though if this was a weird dream, that would make sense. A soft, sweet Kyley speaking in almost affectionate tones. 

“I don’t think I know what’s going on,” Mysterion’s gruff voice growled, though a slight more bewildered than normal. 

“Okay, just take a second,” Kyley’s voice lowered again, and he reached to pull his mask aside to pull it off his hair. “Breathe and-”

He smacked his hand away, struggling to sit up. “Don’t do that,” He said, heart thudding. Kyley had sent him a friend request, sure, but he didn’t _know_. “You don’t unmask someone like me.” 

“I don’t do shit all, Kenneth, don’t fuck with me,” Kyley pulled his mask right down, exposing a shocked expression with bright blue eyes. He stopped, eyes narrowing. 

He stood up in the dim hallway, looking down at the vigilante sitting by himself on the wooden floor. 

“Who are you?” He asked, voice so quiet it rang in his ears. “You’re not my Kenny.” 

He wasn’t able to speak. Kyle Broflovski had rendered Mysterion absolutely speechless. 

Symbols were written neatly on the walls, just as they were last night, but it was daylight. He felt like he might be sick, still, and he couldn’t understand how to answer the Jersey boy. 

“So where is he?” The boy demanded, face stark white. “And who the fuck are you?!”


	2. Chained 2

He wasn’t hurt. He reflected on that as he stumbled after Kyley. He must have died. He’d gone after those cultists alone, stupidly, and must have died. That was why…that was why Kyley was confused, of course, but-

“How do you know who I am?” He demanded, keeping an eye on the rising sun. “You said you didn’t know for sure.”

“Shut the fuck up,” The boy told him hurriedly, drawing his hoodie up over his head. “And let’s get out of the damn public. God. I can’t fucking believe this.”

Mysterion narrowed his eyes at his back. “You’re not making any sense, Broflovski.” 

“Shut up.” His tone softened slightly, almost bitterly, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just…don’t say anything until we get home.” 

They were going the wrong way if they were headed to Kyley-B’s home. He lived by the campus, just like Kenny did, just on the other side of the school. Which was across town. They were headed to the rich side of town. Mysterion had only stopped by here to frighten some high-ranked baddies, while dodging backyards of normal rich families and falling into a pool or two. 

He stared at Kyley’s back. He could slip away easily. This was wrong somehow and he felt uncomfortable, but he could leave at any point. Kyley wasn’t forcing him to come along, after all. 

But if he was still confused, he didn’t want to leave him alone. Kyley had saved his life too may times for Kenny to suspect a double cross and he would not allow something to happen to the boy. So. Here he was, walking along stupidly to fuck knows where. 

Kyley walked up the street, in broad daylight, with Mysterion following him obviously.

“Shouldn’t I take a different path?” He murmured, keeping an eye on the various yards. 

“I really don’t give a shit right now,” Kyley snapped back, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, still hunched over slightly and walking briskly. “Just shut the fuck up for two seconds and hurry it up.” 

He was matching Kyley-B pace for pace. The Vigilante shook his head, still checking for anything out of the ordinary. Something was very wrong, and it prickled at him as they continued to walk. 

This must be the nicer part of the neighborhood, because he didn’t recognize any of these houses. Some had chalk drawings in the driveway and shorter, normal looking fences. More residential, perhaps, than the concrete-surrounded wild manors Mysterion had to visit on his more ‘detective’ missions. 

“Are we almost to wherever you’re going?” Kyley could say whatever he wanted, being in broad daylight was not something he enjoyed. 

“We’re going to my house and yes,” Kyley scrubbed a hand through his incredibly frizzy, curly hair. “Up ahead. We’ll go in the back.” 

Kyley was approaching a modern looking house made of concrete, starting off the style of houses Mysterion was more familiar with. 

Familiar with. A swirling coolness of dread filled his stomach, a flash of feeling from times trying to force information from higher ups or snooping that led to horrifying measures of torture. 

“Kyley,” Mysterion said, slowing his pace, staring up at the unlit, silent building as his breaths interrupted the silence heavily. “Where are we going?” 

The boy wasn’t even listening now, scanning something by the smaller gate, wrought iron and new, and he heard the lock click. 

“Kyley?” There was less Mysterion in his voice now as alarm buzzed through his veins. This was leading to something that sent chills through his veins. “What the fuck.” 

“Hurry your ass up, I’m not waiting for you,” Kyley pushed open the gate and didn’t even bother closing it, more or less jogging past a pool to the back door he began sliding open. “Hurry up!” He barked over his shoulder, and Mysterion was left staring after him. 

Something was…wrong. He felt suddenly dizzy, slowly walking towards the open door. The water in the pool lapped lazily and seemed to ring in his ears. 

Kyley was not one of these people. He couldn’t be. He’d saved his life multiple times, with great trouble to himself, he’d put himself in danger for him, he’d _kissed_ him unprompted each time, he treated him with a respect he offered few other people while remaining his snarky, fiery self. 

Kenny had considered Kyley a friend. He was not…he couldn’t…

But it wasn’t as if he could die…the consequences may be dire if Kyley-B was hurt, but it wasn’t as though he could be hurt permanently if this went south…

He paused in front of the wide open sliding glass, catching his own struck expression in the reflection. He inhaled. 

“Kyley?” He called again, stepping indoors and immediately pausing. 

He didn’t know how to explain it without sounding weird, but this place looked like Kyley. And it distinctly had the expensive, rich-boy smell the kid carried around. The neat kitchen, expensive computer with stacks of papers on the dining table. 

He inhaled slowly again, eyes drifting over the careful décor and various, and real, plants scattered about. There was something unnerving about the painting he could see in the hallway…a soft green landscape, the flowing skirts of a princess and the rich robes of a King. He felt oddly sick. Something about it was wrong. He didn’t want to look at it anymore. 

The kitchen counters were made of real stone, the sink was hammered copper, pots and pans hung from the ceiling and it looked like he’d been making something to eat. 

Mysterion grazed his fingers over the heavy wooden table, thumb brushing the edge of the sleeping computer. He even had flowers sitting in a vase in the middle of the table, dozens of pretty little gardenias with an orange tulle bow around the glass vase. 

Something made him feel a little ill about that, as well, and he broke himself away from his train of thought to fully recognize what he’d come across. 

This was Kyley’s house. 

This was Kyley’s home, from the plethora of papers and the flashy kitchen and the spicy smell lingering on everything. This was Kyley’s home. 

Which was impossible. Kyley didn’t own a house. 

“Kyle.” Mysterion’s voice bordered on an order. 

“I’m looking for something,” The kid still sounded pissed, but that was no longer of importance. 

He silently stepped into the hall, boots sinking into soft carpet, cape fluttering softly as he walked further past two doors to one that was open. Sconces on the wall glowed pleasantly but he felt like he may genuinely throw up. 

It was as if the house itself was welcoming him, a soft and warm feeling, one that nauseated him like overeating on sweets. There was something horribly, horribly _wrong_.

He followed the sound of Kyley frantically shuffling, forgetting anything about traps in order to find the kid wherever he was in this unsettling damn castle. 

“Kyle?” Mysterion would never allow himself to sound unnerved, but Kenny might. He pushed back his hood, exposing blond hair spilling over a dark mask. 

“I can’t _find it_!” Kyley sounded enraged. Kenny turned the corner and stopped mid-step. 

Kyley’s office was a mess. Papers were all over the floor and he was shuffling through more, smacking his elbow on the metal bookshelf without so much as flinching. 

Kenny ignored all of this to gape, openly, at the enormous painting of himself, in his uniform, made in broad strokes and in desaturated purples and greys. His posture could easily be misconstrued as heroic but was supposed to be bitter and intimidating. It was drawn in wide paint strokes, more the suggestion of a figure against a rainy city than anything else. 

Kenny had never seen this painting before. And yet. 

He’d painted it. 

He knew that as well as he knew his own face. That was how he painted with oils, that was his painting. And there, _there_ , the name ‘Kenneth’ in the corner. 

He walked over to it, taking in the expensive frame, pristine glass, the clear pride and love surrounding something his hands had never touched and yet was his, and his alone. 

Kenny whirled, cape swishing around his calves, to watch Kyley frantically shoving papers off his desk and bringing out more, the old ones sliding across the floor lethargically. 

He took in the utterly familiar frame, lean but still softer than Kenny’s own angular stature. Broad shoulders, often bare, an expensive watch around a wrist that led to long fingers. The pale, slim nape of his neck, orangey-red hair on his head, eyebrows, arms. And, if he’d turn around, gorgeous greenish-brown eyes settled in a fierce expression, pretty lips, a masculine jaw. 

Utterly familiar. Utterly appealing. And yet he was starting to get that nauseating feeling staring at the boy. Kenny swallowed, watching Kyley swipe another load of papers off the desk and frantically continue searching. 

He took a step forward, unable to take his eyes off the kid. His boots were still silent but he could hear himself breathing. He didn’t bother trying to control it. 

He reached out, an ill-fitting silicon glove brushing over Kyley’s shoulder. He could feel the warmth through the fabric as the redhead ripped his arm away, whirling on him like he expected an attack. 

Kenny remained still, staring into his face. Handsome, naturally, still fierce and strong but holding something frantic along with it. 

Was that why he felt unfamiliar to him, or was he starting to catch on? 

“Sit yourself down somewhere while I fix this shit,” Kyley’s voice was shaking. Kenny didn’t so much as twitch, eyes flitting over the other boy. 

“What’s going on?” His voice came out almost gentle, and a far lot calmer than he actually felt. 

“It’s that cultist shit,” Kyley eyed him before reluctantly turning around, flipping through pages with a little less frenzy. “I didn’t take it seriously, I didn’t take what they were seriously at fucking all, it was absurd-”

“I went there to investigate the cultists,” Kenny interrupted him, heart pounding in his ears, “How did you even know about this?” 

“There was something on who they were, I had it, and I don’t know where it went!” Kyley slammed his fist against the desk, dragging a hand through his frizzing hair. “They’re a bunch of cunts worshipping other dimensional beings, cross worlds, and I laughed and thought it was stupid!”

“Kyle,” He couldn’t do anything but repeat himself, his brain scrambling to try and find some other answer to this. This couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, just like that picture on the wall couldn’t have been painted by him. 

The Jersey boy was punctuating with his hands smacking against the desk. “It’s my. Fucking. Fault! This can’t fucking be happening to me, after all my work we can't be-”

Mysterion caught Kyley’s hand before he could slam it into the desk again, and the boy swung at him with his other fist. 

He caught that one as well, lips pressing into a firm line. The next moment he took in the startled look on Kyley’s face. He’d frightened him. 

His grip loosened, thumb pressing against the inside of his wrists as he relaxed. The redhead was staring him down, sunlight from in between thin blinds the only light in the room as they finally had a moment of silence. 

Kenny let him go, still looking over his face. He felt weirdly self-conscious of himself, his hands lowering almost awkwardly, too manually. 

Kyley was leaning back against the desk, running a hand through his hair again. He was looking at the painting, clearly. It was the only thing on that wall. 

“Who are you?” He found himself asking, redirecting that greenish gaze back to the vigilante. So familiar, and yet this was absolutely not his Kyley. Not at all. Every inch of his face looked _wrong_ , and yet he could tell nothing was actually different. It just…wasn’t him. 

“Call me Kyley-B,” The boy demanded, looking the other male up and down. “I know…not who you are, but you’re alter…” He took a breath but still continued on before Kenny could get in another word. “You aren’t where you think you are-”

“Figured that,” Mysterion’s growl was back, though a little put back. “I know who you are. In a way.” 

The fiery kid looked somewhat appeased for some reason. He moved to sit on the desk, chest visibly expanding with his next breath. “I don’t- you were just checking out those stupid cultists and getting me information. That was it, that was all, and-” He took a fistful of papers and threw them towards the floor, watching the crumpled bits hit. “You- _he-_ didn’t come home.” 

“Home.” The word hummed on his lips. 

Kyley’s gaze shot up again, face flooding with red. “Here. I mean here.” 

“Who am I to you?” Mysterion asked dizzily, recalling passionate kisses tanged with blood and adrenaline. Heroism from someone without a single clue or any kind of powers. Home?

“We’re partners,” Kyley’s explanation was smooth but his brow was twitching. “You’re my intel and I’m the mastermind. I plan most of the takedowns so that there will be as little collateral damage as possible- something you’ve struggled with in the past, mostly with yourself. I keep you safe.” 

Mastermind. Safe. There was so many things he could pick from that, but he was fixated on another piece of information. 

“You called me ‘Doll,’” He recalled dizzily, “When I woke up.” 

“That’s not important,” Kyley snapped at him, pushing himself away from the desk and shoving past him. “I don’t have fucking time for this. I have to get him back.” 

Kenny stood there, in his Mysterion uniform, as Kyley-B left the study behind. He watched him go without moving, staring at the opposing wall. Another painting, in mostly greys, a blurred cityscape. A smeared purple figure facing dark green. 

The weight of what was actually happening hit him. 

Here, he’d finally run into something that actually managed to beat him. Something he couldn’t just come back from. 

If he'd been anyone else... if he didn't have his current....'talent'... he would never, not in a million years, have considered what he was believing right now. 

Kenny whipped back through the hallway, cape snapping around his ankles, following the scrape of a chair from the dining room. Worshipping interdimensional beings. 

“How did you know what the cult was about?” Mysterion was back by the time he stepped into the dining room, flipping his hood back up as he looked at the boy sitting in front of the laptop. 

“I told you, I’m the brains of this,” Kyley replied, tapping in a passcode without looking over at him. “I do the research. I keep you safe. You’re the mouthpiece, the muscle, the driving force, sure, but _we_ are Mysterion.” 

The Vigilante watched the soft bounce of curls against his furrowed eyebrows, quiet. 

“These people, they’re into the ‘study’ of other worlds, of endless dimensions, of gateways to gods,” The boy continued while continuing to bring up documents on the computer. “They believe that if you leap enough, they could come face to face with the Netherworld and approach their idols in person. Merge with the energies there to become an evolved race. That’s their entire goal.” 

He inclined his head, listening, multicolored blue eyes fixated on the boy. “I was researching disappearances of children in the area.” 

“So were we,” Kyley told him, “And young adults. We don’t know if they were indoctrinated into the cult or something else. We were investigating the cult downtown last night. I just wanted some kind of intel. A phone or something to begin following a line to someone of power. That was fucking all. That was it.” 

Mysterion straightened a paper on the end of the table, just to give himself something to do other than stand there. 

Gateways. Gateways to maybe not gods, but gateways. He didn’t have to tell Kyley the significance of that, the kid was already a step ahead. 

The Jersey boy was clicking through a website that looked like it was up to date in the 1990’s. Kenny was still thinking. 

Gateways. That moment, that brief moment before he woke up, had he really traversed worlds? Had he left his home- and everyone he knew- behind? It was unreal, and yet-

“Karen!” Kenny blurted suddenly, blood turning icy in his wrists. 

“Karen,” Kyley cocked his head at him, stopping what he was doing to survey the vigilante. “Is fine. You call her every Friday night, sometimes in a three way call with Kevin.” 

That wasn’t the entire problem. Kenny slowly sank into a dining chair, not paying any mind to appearances or intimidation. 

“I mean _my_ Karen,” He said slowly, pulse humming against his skull. “I left- if this is-”

Kyley jerked his gaze away against with a scowl, becoming suddenly and oddly twice as loud. 

“Well, you aren’t staying!” He said, voice going from soft back to snappish and shrill. “There’s an empty-headed cabbage-brain out there who needs me and I’ll be damned if I just sit by and hope this resolves itself.” 

Kenny looked him over again, feeling that weird wrong feeling creep up once more. 

“Define ‘partners’,” He said suddenly, but Kyley spoke over him before he could finish the request. 

“Hand me that fucking folder and shut your stupid mouth,” He demanded. “Or I’ll leave you to rot between worlds.” 

He definitely knew enough about Kyley to know when he was trying to cover something up. And yet, all he could do was blearily hand him the folder, falling silent. 

Karen, his Karen, was left behind in a previous _world._ Kevin, his mom, his dad, his friends. 

His Kyley. 

He stared at the table as Kyley’s shaking fingers tapped against the keyboard, both boys refusing to say anything further about what was happening or what consequences it currently held.


	3. Kysterion 1

His breaths came in gasps as the pain subsided. Greyness faded from his edges, leaving him alive and bright once again. He was released. Warm. 

Thoughts came swirling at him so violently he felt sick. Kenny feebly moved his legs, flexed his fingers, took a halfhearted self check as his blurry vision began to focus. 

Morning. Sunlight streamed directly into his sensitive eyeballs, sending him squirming to his feet rubbing his face. He wrinkled his nose. His fingers were gloved, he was still in his costume, and Mysterion squinted down at himself as he finally began to get his bearings again. 

What had happened? 

The vigilante glanced back up, hand dropping onto his lap. 

The bizarre marks on the walls were still there, looking only like innocuous and stupid sharpie scrawls. He gave them an distrusting glance. 

He pushed back his hood to scratch at his head, grimacing at the clear damage. He'd definitely been hurt somehow. 

Kyley was going to kill him. He groaned as he hauled himself to his feet. 

He’d been gone too many hours already, but he took the time to search the building. He stepped over creaking boards and crackling papers, surveying every inch of room and every scrap of information left. There wasn’t anything useful, no thumb drives, cell phones, gamecubes. All for naught, and he was nearly dragging his feet by the end of it, body aching irritably. 

Hurt, disoriented, and without anything else to show for the outing. 

Yep, Kyley was so going to kill him. 

Kenny exhaled through his nose and was quick to strip. His sexy new uniform was made to have thin clothing underneath. Meant Kenny was no longer stuck as Mysterion if he didn’t want to be. The kid who designed it was such a clever fucker. Always thought ahead, considered all sorts of possibilities. Few complaints here, but maybe one. The cloth under his belt was thin, but unwrapped made an unobtrusive little bag that could be easily mistaken as a duffel. He stuffed his uniform inside. 

Wearing a tank top and shorts, he was just stuck in the stupid boots as he slipped out of the building and began heading back home, checking over his shoulder before shaking his head at himself. 

He looked like a stripper. He was going to mention that to Kyley, maybe accent it with a slap of his bare thighs, tease him until he came up with a better idea. It was an improvement, sure, but he couldn’t waltz around like this without any looks whatsoever. 

It just wasn’t practical to leave his normal clothes around with a normal bag hidden near a crime scene, he’d decided that early on. Kenny scratched at his cheek tiredly as he trudged back towards his neighborhood. He wasn’t comfortable with that, even if he cut any identifying shit out of it someone could camp out by his bag and confront him when he returned. He didn't want to deal with that. So yeah, improvement, but he needed to get this streamlined. 

But no, no, no, he was getting distracted. His big problem right now wasn’t flashy boots and booty shorts, it was the fact that he didn’t have anything to show for his outing. And…

He rubbed his forehead. Something else had gone on, right? It was… it was like…

The image of solid grey filled his mind and absolutely nothing else. 

What the fuck, why couldn’t he remember? He just thought something about those stupid marks on the wall, but now he couldn’t remember why he’d been so pissed at them. 

He kept his head down as he walked home, heart thudding in his chest. He set his jaw. Something was wrong. Something was very, very, very wrong. This was…it reminded him of how people acted…

Oh god he wished he’d taken Kyley up on that stupid headset idea. He broke into a jog, avoiding anyone’s gaze. The feeling crawled its way under his skin and stayed there. Something was wrong. 

He was remembering less and less. Why had he gone there? To learn about…something to do with kids, but he couldn’t remember why that place or what specifically he’d been searching for a phone or something for. 

He’d kissed Kyley last night before he left. Kyley told him to get something for him. He’d startled him, and Kyley was still in danger. He was still being spoken about in a very negative manner, people knew who he was and who he was related to. That had been his biggest worry as of last night. 

And now he was walking around with partial amnesia, injured, and uncharacteristically scared out of his mind. 

He always remembered everything. That was part of his problem. It was why he probably needed a fuckton of therapy. He remembered. _He always remembered._

His chest was starting to ache but he was in their neighborhood now, houses becoming nice and streamlined, he hopped over the fence rather than go through the gate and started up their street. 

Kyley was going to insist he see a doctor, but Kenny needed to keep him on track. That didn’t matter. He needed-

He needed that logic and fire. He’d become a little dependent but fuck if he couldn’t make himself regret it. 

The dashing, angry son of a supervillain and the city’s most controversial “hero”. Match made in heaven. He couldn’t regret that. 

He couldn't regret the constant worry and care. The gentleness shown on rough nights along with fighting words meant to keep him in the game. Kyley picked Kenny up as many times as he picked himself up. He had a new purpose, a new fire. He wasn't regretting any of it. He certainly was in need of it right now, he felt like he'd been mentally slapped. 

And then Kenny knew something was wrong immediately, even if his mind didn’t fully process it at first. 

His steps faltered as he stared, he came to a staggering stop in the middle of the street. He stared directly at the park, greenery and a children’s playground and benches. 

Kenny looked over his shoulder, chest still heaving breaths from his jog. He looked back at the park, which remained innocent looking and quiet. There wasn't a sound but the faint roar of cars on the freeway and chirping birds. His own ragged breaths. He took two unsure steps forward. 

“Kyle?” He called stupidly to the park, blood turning cold in his veins. 

This wasn’t- Kenny knew where he was. He’d been in this stupid fucking neighborhood so many times before he met Kyley to intimidate or outright challenge corrupt officials and gang members. He knew this place like the back of his hand, that was why it was so funny that he ended up living there. Hilarious. 

There was no way that he was wrong. 

Kenny’s chest was tightened to something painful. He licked his chapped lips, feet carrying him heavily towards the park. 

This was where his house was. Right there was supposed to be the driveway. Right here. Kenny’s boots stood squarely in the middle of a grassy area next to a garbage can. This was his driveway. 

This was his driveway. 

Kenny dragged in breaths, hands numb at his sides. His house, his paintings, all his things, _Kyley_. 

It was right here. 

Kenny staggered to sit against the trash bin, sliding down to sit with his legs splayed. 

Something bad happened. Something happened to him. It had to, because- 

He wasn’t going to imagine Kyley or something stupid like time travel. Nothing dumb like that. His mind was running away with him. And yet-

Here he was. Staring at his home- their home- and nothing was here. Nothing but discarded candy wrappers and too-fat squirrels. It wasn't here. He wasn't here. 

Kenny flew down the street, Mysterion mode kicking in and keeping him from feeling more like he wanted to throw up. Something was wrong. What had he done?

Don’t think about it. Don’t let yourself get emotionally involved. It was a mission, like any other mission, something to think about and plan and overcome. Don’t think about it. Don’t wonder. Don’t speculate. 

He was a seasoned hero, he shouldn't be freaking out like this. It wasn't who he was. 

Right now Kenny didn't give a single fuck. 

There was a library down the street. When Kenny wanted some peace and quiet to work on earning his degree, he grabbed a coffee and went down the street. He was friendly with the librarians and it was fairly quiet. Familiar. 

If it wasn’t there he was going to lose his fuckin' _shit_. 

It was there, thankfully, and Kenny hoped the librarian didn’t point out his attire or the fact he was cold sweating like a scared pig. He skittered off to the computers, setting his bag protectively between his legs as he pulled a chair up to the desk. 

He turned the computer on, drumming his fingers against the mousepad. A quick survey of the screen proved that yes, today was the day it was supposed to be. But that was small comfort. 

His fingers were shaking against the keyboard, proving he wasn’t fully in hero mode.

Well, what did he search? ‘Who the fuck stole my house?’ He needed something he knew he'd get results for. And Kyley might be the smartest one, but Kenny was fairly clever on his own. Something big but still pertaining to the redhead. 

**S-WOW TittyBang**

He snapped enter, thinking about how Kyle would threaten to smack him for bringing her up again. He was touchy about his mother’s past, and that was one reason why having it plastered around town lately had rattled him more than he admitted. It was everywhere, every turn they made, and they couldn't escape it. 

So he ought to be seeing loads of articles about it. 

He wasn’t. 

Kenny stared at the results page, face impassive. Nothing. Not a single page. As if she hadn't existed. 

As if one of the most controversial and most talked about Bronze Age villains from the city had never existed. 

Just like her son. 

He lowered his head, dropped it onto his arms on the desk and closed his eyes. His hands curled into fists. 

He felt like he’d had most of his emotions ripped out of his brain. He could barely think. He was not where he should be. Whatever happened just then had fucked up something big. 

What if he’d erased Kyle like the world kept trying to erase him? What if somehow he’d scraped the boy off the face of the earth with whatever choices he made or what things he encountered? 

He really felt like he might vomit. 

It was like someone had torn off his left arm. And he had his arm torn off a good handful of times. He'd take that- and any other awful encounters he'd had in the past- a dozen times over without complaint if it meant this wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. 

Where was Kyley? _What did he do?_

Kenny dragged in another breath, lifting his heavy head to stare at the screen. Someone was going to think he was on drugs if they looked over at him. He couldn’t stay here, but he had no where else to go. He had to think of something to do. Someone to reach. 

Karen? He tried to keep her out of the hero business…if he had to, he could…

Maybe try one more thing. 

He gently tapped in the name, lips pressed together tightly. 

**Kyle Broflovski**

Not a single article about his supervillain mother. Nothing about his letter to the papers that had rubbed so many people the wrong way. Not a word. 

But. 

Kenny narrowed his eyes. 

HONOR STUDENT AND BASKETBALL CAPTAIN OF UNIVERSITY SET TO MAKE VALEDICTORIAN


	4. Kysterion 2

His cape swished around his ankles, heavy fabric hitting his calves. He perched on the edge of the building, watching, pulling absently at the cuff of his left glove. 

His world was gone. He was alone, now, a singular figure in a landscape that no longer belonged to him. Nothing was the same. Nothing was familiar. Nothing but the bitter wind of the city biting at the skin under the uniform and the almost-forgotten feeling of isolation. 

It had been a while since he felt like this. Since he lingered on the cold concrete of a quiet building and had no other mind to turn to. 

Mysterion dangled one leg over the side, watching the opposing building, eyes lowering to one balcony in particular as he twisted his fingers together. 

He was dependent. He knew he was dependent and he shouldn’t have let himself become so reliant. He knew, after all, that one day it might be taken away from him. Just not like this. Neither of them had anticipated something so surreal. 

Or. 

Kenny’s fingers cracked at the joints. 

_“Kenny,” Kyley murmured, tossing the newspaper onto the table and folding his arms, “Don’t fucking joke.”_

_“Nothing is going to happen,” The half-dressed vigilante tried to brush off, a chill flooding his veins. “You’ve got hell of a security system, including one sleeping right next to you at night-”_

_“I’ve taken care of everything,” The hothead interrupted him, leveling him with an icy and silencing look. “You get the house. All my assets. Use what you can to help Mysterion, take care of Ike.”_

_“Kyle.” The joking demeanor fell away from Kenny in chunks, and he stepped forward as far as his heavy feet would take him. “Kyle, you’re not going to-”_

_“Look, be quiet for a goddamn second,” The Jersey boy’s temper flared briefly, eyes sparking. “You’re the only goddamn person I trust and I need to know you’ll take care of everything.”_

_“Kyle, you’re not going to die,” Kenny’s voice came out almost breathy, the sheer wrongness of the words causing a bad taste in his mouth._

_“I might,” The boy lifted his chin, eyes going back to chilly. “And if I do, you’ll watch out for Ike and keep kicking ass. Right?”_

_“Kyle-”_

_“Kenneth.” The golden chain around the boy’s neck caught the light, drawing attention to the faded necklace of loving bruises embedded into the skin behind it. “Right?”_

_Kenny stared, stomach twisting, as Kyley held his gaze and waited. Expectantly. The entire house seemed to be silent and waiting._

_“Of course I’d watch out for Ike,” He said, finally, watching Kyley break eye contact to stare out their kitchen window. “What kinda guy would I be if I- what kind of- uh…” He couldn’t think of a good way to end this one. Kyley leaned back against the counter, unsmiling, and Kenny lamely fell silent._

_You’ll. Not you’d. You’ll take care of everything- you WILL take care of everything. Not would he._

_As if he expected he was going to die for this, for real, as if he already knew._

_“You’re not going to die,” Kenny said again, firmly, brushing back the memories of blood and crushed bones, the smell of burning or iron. “Kyle. Look at me.”_

_“You never fucking know,” The boy snapped, opening a drawer absently before slamming it shut. “Now I know. So drop it.”_

_“Kyle-”_

_“Drop it,” The boy turned to face him, a tired and resigned expression taking over a normally lively face. “That’s enough. That’s all I needed to know, Ken.”_

He shouldn’t have dropped it. He shouldn’t have let his discomfort at the thought of Kyle being hurt dictate his own actions. Shouldn’t have let his own (denied) PTSD make him shy away from having to picture him broken and gone. 

He should have pressed, should have found out if it was just the threats in general he’d been getting that spurred the conversation or if he’d come across something he’d been afraid of. 

What if he’d known something? What if Kenny missed out on getting a warning? 

Mysterion closed his eyes, inhaling slowly and exhaling all at once. Surely he’d say something if he’d known something strange was about to happen. If he knew for certain, he would have brought it up. He wouldn’t leave Kenny in the dark. Not if he was so concerned for someone’s wellbeing. 

Ike. 

Kyle’s first worry had been Ike. And here, Kenny had no idea how to contact him. 

Karen’s phone number had been answered by a very confused male, and Kenny had frantically searched with the library’s computer and found records of her upcoming graduation from art school. He’d nearly passed out in relief. From there, he’d found her social media, and his heart was still in his throat. 

The image of her and Ruby, dated only a few hours prior, was burned into his eyes. 

Her girlfriend was still alive in this place. 

Kyley’s house didn’t exist and Ruby Tucker was still alive. 

Kenny closed his eyes, folded fingers pressing against his forehead. His thoughts were swimming. He needed- he _needed_ -

He stood, slow and fluid, eyes locked on the balcony. With the grace of someone who’d practiced until it stopped killing him, he gently leapt the distance between buildings, boots balancing on the metal barrier of Kyley’s balcony. Mysterion then dropped to the concrete ground, moving to press his cheek against the cold metal of the door. 

No noise, but then, if Kyley didn’t live in a house he might not blast music like he did normally. He could pretend to be a violent rebel all he liked, he was too much of a goody-two-shoes to even annoy neighbors with loud music. 

Mysterion unlocked the door, considerately not breaking the lock so Kyley wouldn’t kill him. The door slid open easily, and he slipped inside without a sound. 

The lights were on, but he didn’t have a moment to second guess himself or turn anything off. He stared directly into someone else’s eyes, a kid sitting on the countertop next to a steaming pot on the stove. 

They gaped at one another a moment, and the brunet dropped the phone he was holding to clutch at the table like it might kick him off. 

“Kyley, it’s for you!” The guy didn’t look away from him even as he shouted, as if afraid the Vigilante might attack the moment he took his eyes off him. 

Mysterion was frozen, staring back, trying to match this face to anyone he’d ever come across. 

He didn’t know who this was. Not that he’d ever met anyone important to Kyley’s life, so that wasn’t surprising, but this was- 

Who was this? Mysterion stared, impassively, at the attractive black-haired boy about their age, with chocolate brown eyes and a tired expression. He looked tired, thin, tall, and somewhere between ‘please don’t kill me’ petrified and ‘I don’t even care’ depressed. 

He eyed the university sweatshirt he was wearing. 

And there was Kyley. Kenny’s heart jumped as he took in the boy, wearing loose shorts and a tshirt with the sleeves cut off. His neck was bare of any jewelry and he was scowling at him from where he leaned against the doorway. 

Leaned against the doorway. 

Kyley didn’t look surprised to see him. 

Kenny’s pulse hummed in his wrists. Kyley had a very, beautifully familiar look on his face, one affectionately annoyed and a bit embarrassed. 

“Alright, dickhead, let’s talk,” Kyley jerked his hand through the doorway, as the brunet boy finally let a grin twitch onto his face. 

Mysterion was very aware of the other person now, which meant he _didn’t_ immediately tackle the boy to the ground in relief. Instead, he walked stiffly but unfalteringly past him into a small, dark living room. 

“Furthest door down the hall,” Kyley’s grouchy voice carried to him. “Hurry it up.”

Years of being _the_ Vigilante meant he had learned to take things in quickly. 

The living room had cheap, mismatched furniture, there were old holes in the carpet but the floor was clean. Nothing on the walls, a tv settled on a Uhaul box. 

The wheels in Kenny’s head kept turning as he walked down the narrow hall, reaching for the doorknob and turning it. Stepping in. 

He could see ghosts of Kyle Broflovski in this room. Neat, clean, plain blue quilt made neatly, laptop open on a plain desk with no drawers. 

Still, it was so bizarrely different that he momentarily let his mind wander, enough that he forgot who was behind him when the door closed. 

Automatically, he whirled, but all he got was a raised eyebrow from Kyley. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you showed up here,” The Jersey boy's accent had a startlingly uncultured tone to it that took Kenny aback. “You know better.” 

“I know better.” Mysterion’s rough voice had softened slightly in confusion, masked eyes meeting green. 

Kyley’s brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you?” 

If he wasn’t decked out in uniform, he’d sink down onto the bed and hold his head in his hands. His head was spinning, information overload finally taking it’s toll. 

He didn’t know how to approach Karen. His house was gone. And Kyley was- it was, but it wasn’t-

A gloved hand reached for Kyley’s face, the boy cautiously jerking away. 

“This isn’t right.” 

This wasn’t…

It looked like Kyley. It did, and he even recognized him, but something was wrong. That faint, wary look he was giving him was unfamiliar. He might bitch, but he always let Kenny touch him. Something was off. 

His house. His sister. His boyfriend. 

“What?” Kyley was saying, and the blond honestly had to try and rein in his ‘Kenny’ side right now. 

He had to find answers. 

“Kyley,” Mysterion said, eyes focused on the door behind him, “Who is that in the kitchen?” 

There was a beat, a point where neither of them said anything or reacted. And then the redhead exploded. 

“You know what, you can fuck right off,” Kyley sputtered, rapidly turning red. “You’ve heard me talk about Stan, you complete and utter dick, I’m not- we aren’t-”

Mysterion wouldn’t have been this successful if he wasn’t good at piecing things together. That coupled with his familiarity with Kyley set his mind on the correct track immediately. 

“I don’t know who Stan is,” He interrupted Kyley’s tirade quickly, “Kyle. _Kyle_.”

He was starting to understand. He was starting to put it all together. Kyley would probably have scolded him for taking this long. 

The cult, the worshippers of beings that transcended worlds. Symbols on the wall, the faint recollection of mist and death. 

A life touched by impossibility even before this event, he couldn’t even doubt it, because look at himself. 

He swallowed. This was no longer his Kyley. He had to think. He had to find where he stood with him and how much he’d believe. 

He’d never even told Kyley about what he struggled with. 

“Mysterion?” The boy sounded cautiously concerned now, the single word making up his mind. 

“Something happened on patrol,” He decided on, meeting Kyley’s eyes and searching for familiarity. If the same tricks could work on this person’s sympathies. “I’m trying to…figure something out. I don’t know where else to go.” 

There, a switch flipped, and Kyley’s slouched posture turned proper, suspicious eyes warming to something bright. 

He managed not to smile. 

“Are you alright?” Kyley asked sharply. “What happened? Nothing was on the scanners, where were you?” 

Mysterion shook his head, trying to dissolve all of that. Care, they were…friends? Scanners, this Kyley was a weirdo stalker also. 

“Don’t ask,” He murmured, “Not yet. Not until I know more.” 

“Oh, but I’m supposed to open my house to you?” Kyley snapped, as if that might cover his clear concern. 

“This isn’t a house,” Mysterion deadpanned, taking another look around the room. This was not the residence of a young millionaire. Even if he wanted an apartment, Kyley would at least want a table to place a tv on, a nice desk to organize the physical results of his own mind. 

“Fucking hell, you’re such a jackass,” Kyley actually smacked his arm for that one. “I’d like to fucking know where you sleep, to be so high-and-mighty.” 

He managed not to smile. “A house.” 

“ _Fuck_ you,” Kyley ordered, reddening, and that at least was familiar and warm. 

Kenny basked in it, silent, and Kyley’s anger seemed to bleed away fairly quickly. He looked him over, more clinical than anything interesting, suddenly narrowing his eyes. 

“You got a new uniform,” He said, taking in the reinforcings, the heavy cape, the utility boots, all in dark purples and blacks, accented with pale green. 

Yes, he did. Mysterion looked the creator of the new look right in the eyes and immediately looked away before he could smile like an idiot. 

They both stood there quietly, Kyley’s fingertips lightly skimmed the outside of his cape. 

“I’m going to talk to Stan for a minute,” The Jersey boy finally said, “Stay here.” 

Underneath the mask, Kenny’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “So.” His voice smoothened to something undeniably suggestive, purring and low. “I’m staying in your room?” 

Kyley bristled, jabbing a finger solidly in the middle of the embossed ‘M’ on his chest. “You’re sleeping on my goddamn couch, motherfucker, and you’ll be happy with it.”

“You’ve made me happy already,” Mysterion let the sex drip off his voice, and Kyley’s face was so red at this point he was a little concerned he might be injuring himself. 

“Shove it up your gaping muff,” Kyley elbowed him for good measure as he opened his door back up. “Stay here and don’t be stupid.” 

He let him go, and if he wasn’t totally out of his element he’d debate lying on his bed when he returned to set him off again. 

As it was, Mysterion stood quietly and tried to get his thoughts together. 

So Kyley was an ally, and didn’t have any idea who he was. He clearly was not the son of a supervillain here, Kenny would ask if Ike was alright later. 

He had to find out more about the cult. He needed to figure out where they were and get them to- to return him, or whatever. See if Kyley could help him track them down. He’d always been extremely good at reconnaissance. 

Seems he truly was dependent. 

Kenny took one more look around this room, which looked like Kyle and smelled like Kyle but was utterly foreign instead of familiar. He inhaled, gave the boys another twenty seconds to chat, and strode through the door to join the conversation. 

Treat it like the first few months he’d ever met Kyley. Just until he was back home with his own once again. If that was even possible. 

He was really starting to hate the occult.


End file.
